"We didn't stop," said Tom. "What do you mean, he got off at Ganymede?

He's supposed to stay with you throughout the race."

"I gotta go now, Corbett," came Miles' abrupt reply. "I'm hittin' rough stuff here, a swarm of meteors. See you on t.i.tan. Be down there to welcome you in."

"Wait! What about Roger?" Tom called frantically into the audioceiver, but Quent Miles did not answer. The young cadet slammed the microphone down on the table. "That blasted Roger!" he cried hotly. "When I get my hands on him, I'm going to--"

"Take it easy, Tom," said Astro, putting a hand on the cadet's shoulder.

"You know how Roger is. Wait until he has a chance to explain before you blast him."

"I suppose you're right, Astro," replied Tom. "But why in the stars would he leave the ship?"

"Whatever he's done, I'm sure Roger has a good explanation," replied the big Venusian. But inwardly he couldn't help feeling that Roger, somehow, had gotten into another sc.r.a.pe which would, in the end, reflect on the whole unit. Neither Tom nor Astro cared much for their own individual reputations, but they were concerned about the record of the unit. Roger had managed to pull himself out of some narrow sc.r.a.pes, but there was always the first time for everything. Leaving his post as monitor in the race was as serious as anything he had done so far.

"Heads up, Tom!" Kit called out. "Meteor storm in our course. We've got to change our heading."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the young cadet, pushing aside his concern over his unit mate and concentrating on routine flight operations.

On and on, the sleek ship plummeted through the black depths of s.p.a.ce beyond Jupiter, heading for the planet Saturn and her magnificent rings of different colors, and to her largest satellite with its deadly methane ammonia gas atmosphere, the crystal-bearing moon, t.i.tan.

"They are approaching the s.p.a.ceport, sir," called the t.i.tan control-tower operator, and Strong jumped to the radarscope to stare at the two blips on the screen. Only a mile separated them, with Quent Miles' _s.p.a.ce Knight_ ahead.

"Five minutes to touchdown," reported the operator.

"Come on, Kit," muttered Strong through clenched teeth. "Pour it on, boy. Give her the gun!"

The two blips drew closer to the heart of the scope. First one and then the other shooting ahead for brief seconds as they began deceleration.

"You can see them outside, now, sir," said the operator, and Strong jumped to the door, stepping out on the observation platform that looked out over the s.p.a.ceport. He searched the skies above him, and then, faintly, he could see the exhaust trails of the two ships as they streaked over the field, beginning their deceleration orbits around the satellite.

Behind him, Strong heard the voice of the tower operator ordering Ramp Four and Ramp Five cleared for the two ships, and the mobs of people on the s.p.a.ceport surged back. Strong noted the irony of the situation. The people of t.i.tan were not out to greet a hero of s.p.a.ce, but were waiting for the next evacuation rocket ship.

The ramps were cleared and within minutes the two ships reappeared over the horizon, nosing upward over the s.p.a.ceport in an arc, their braking rockets blasting loudly as they prepared to land.

Then, feeling that his heart would stop, Captain Strong saw Quent Miles'

black ship touch the surface of the s.p.a.ceport first. Kit Barnard had lost the race. By seconds to be sure, but he had lost the race.

A weak cheer arose from the crowds and then quickly died out. To them the race was futile and the prize empty. How could the winning company ship crystal, when soon, none would be mined?

Strong raced across the field and boarded the _Good Company_ to find Kit, Tom, Astro, and Sid sitting glumly on the control deck. There was a quick smile of greeting on the two cadets' faces when they saw their unit commander, but their smiles died away. Abruptly Kit Barnard was on his feet looking past Strong to someone entering the hatch behind him.

"Congratulations, Quent!" said Kit, extending his hand. "That was a great race."

"Thanks," replied Miles. "But I never figured it would end any other way. You put up a great fight, Barnard. Yes, sir! A great fight!" He turned to Captain Strong and chortled. "Good race, eh, Strong?"

The Solar Guard officer shook hands with the winner and then asked, "Where is Cadet Manning?"

"Say, I want to make a complaint about that!" exclaimed Miles. He looked at Tom and Astro. "It was bad enough to have to be bothered with these kids, but when they behave the way that kid Manning behaved, I've got a right to be sore!"

"When did Manning leave the ship?" asked Strong.

"As soon as we made touchdown on Ganymede. He left the ship after sleeping all the way out, made a couple of nasty cracks, and the last I saw of him, he was heading over toward the deep-s.p.a.ce section of the s.p.a.ceport."

"You're sure of that?" asked Strong.

Quent Miles sneered. "I just said that's what happened, didn't I?"

"Yes, that's what you said," Strong replied. "And I'll have to take your word for it until Manning can answer for himself."

"How did you manage to make it from Earth to Ganymede without refueling, Quent?" asked Kit slowly. "And what have you got in your ship to get that kind of speed?"

Miles' lips curled in a twisted grin. "That's my secret, s.p.a.ceman," he said, turning away. "Well, I've got to report to my boss. Great race, Kit. Too bad there couldn't be more than one winner." He laughed and swaggered out of the ship.

"I'd like to brain that guy," growled Tom.

"All right, Corbett, Astro, pack your gear and report to the control tower for rea.s.signment," snapped Strong. He turned and with a nod of sympathy to Kit left the control deck.

"Let's go, Astro," sighed Tom. "We'll see you later, Kit. You too, Sid.

And--" They looked at each other, but there was nothing more that could be said. The race was finished.

When Tom and Astro had finished packing their gear and left the ship, Sid turned to Kit. "I'm going to take a look at the _s.p.a.ce Knight_!" he announced.

"Better not, Sid." Barnard shook his head. "Miles is a rough customer.

He might not like visitors around his 'secret' on the power deck."

Sid's face was set. "I'm going," he repeated and ducked through the hatch.

His face showing his disappointment at having lost the race, Kit paced the deck for a moment and then he strode purposefully toward the hatch, calling:

"Hey! Wait, Sid. I'm coming with you."

In the control tower at the far end of the s.p.a.ceport, Tom and Astro entered the station commander's office in time to overhear the last of Commander Walters' orders to Captain Strong.

" ... might as well give the boys a rest before we begin our investigations, Steve." He looked up as the door opened. "Oh, here they are now."

"Cadets Corbett and Astro reporting, sir." Tom and Astro saluted smartly.

"Stand easy, boys," said Walters, rising to face them. "I don't know how much you've heard of this emergency on t.i.tan, but you can be briefed on details later. For the moment, all you have to know is that your a.s.signment here is concerned with a detailed checking-out of the whole force-screen machinery. Take a twenty-four-hour rest and then report back here ready for the hardest work you'll ever do in your lives."

"Yes, sir," said Tom.

"Where is Manning? Didn't he think it necessary to report to me?"

Walters looked at Strong. "Well, Steve? It's your unit?"

"It seems he got off the _s.p.a.ce Knight_ at Ganymede, sir," replied Strong reluctantly. "Captain Miles said the last he saw of Manning he was walking toward the deep-s.p.a.ce section of the s.p.a.ceport."

Walters' eyes suddenly became very bright and hard. "He got off, did he?

Well," he snapped, "this is just about the end of the line for Cadet Roger Manning!"